


Harassment Doesn't Cease

by SupernaturalStallions69



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Impel Down, Minor Canonical Character(s), Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalStallions69/pseuds/SupernaturalStallions69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saldeath is harassed by prisoners and mocked because of his stunted growth and shorter wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harassment Doesn't Cease

Impel Down is known for criminals of a large variety. From petty thievery to pirates who murder whoever they please. But it's also known for it's top security of no one ever being able to break out or in.

The job of keeping surveillance for 24 hours everyday can wear out even the better guards or chiefs of the whole top-security prison. Even a few insomniacs have a hard time keeping up. Most of the time, several lower ranking guards keep watch at once in the rooms they are assigned to. This has been made into a strategy to perfection, keeping tabs on the inmates if or when a one guard can't keep their eyes open any longer. It's better to have every guard in there awake so each and every screen is heavily monitored. Surveillance snails are also replaced on a daily basis since few had been noted to collapse from lack of nutrition or hydration. Guards forget they aren't just useful for the machines on their shells. Like any living being, they have limits too.

It's amazing how a tiny percent of prisoners are able to escape just their cell. Other prisoners may cheer them on or hope death upon them for attempting a stupid and pathetic escape. They know there is no escaping Impel Down. No matter how hard they try, they will always end up back where they started. Or worse.

Insults will always be flung around like a food fight in a cafeteria with rambunctious children who believe the system is fucked and they believe trying to riot or fight against the authorities and 'sticking it to the man' will do any good. Only later in the future they may feel regret. Like they have been wrong and too childish for their actions. Whether it's deemed fun or 'he started it' 'she started it', it happens on a daily basis. A jungle full of wild animals wanting to slicing each others throats with claws and fangs. It goes far for some inmates as groups have formed alliances with one another within or out to another cell across from theirs. Packs of wolves who let the alpha eat first. Whoever doesn't oblige dies. Survival of the fittest indeed.

Saldeath had been told numerous times he can leave the surveillance room if he felt like it. Take a break. Get up and stretch his legs or wings or both. He didn't deny the offer. Sometimes he would do so. Other times he preferred to remain silent and still, occasionally speaking his mind in a nonchalant manner to no one in particular. Thinking aloud to himself, some think. Others think he's finally losing his mind from the lack of sleep or staring at several screens displaying rooms and rooms of prisoners and torture chambers. It makes them wonder when he'll start to hallucinate or go crazy.

His eyes droop, yes. But he is aware of what happens here and there. Their murmurs are nothing but noise in the background. Speaking. They speak of things he isn't familiar with that they are. Things like family or personal needs or desires that tread where he himself won't cross the line. Whatever that's about, he doesn't let it prevent him from doing his job. Saldeath's role as a high rank Chief-Guard was obtained because of how serious he is about his work and how he stayed up to speed. He's not going to let the personal lives of others get in the way of it. Through one ear, out the other.

A jump to static on a screen in front of him which he watched intently interrupts his thoughts. He blinks away to moisten his eyes. “Looks like another snail collapsed early,” a lower-ranking guard on his left spoke, “this one is in level 1, before the Crimson Hell room.”

No more words need be spoken as the small imp rises. He stretches out his smaller wings and flutters to help him slowly descend from the seat he remained on and grabs his pitchfork-flute. It's days like this where Saldeath does get the chance to sit. Something he wishes for more often as time goes on, far in the back of his mind. But he can't and he knows it. Saldeath knows he can't wish or imagine or even think of sitting in a chair often or else he'll feel want to feel comfortable most of the time. Leading to a sluggish state.

Whatever is left of the thought is pushed out of his mind and walks out. The guard from the room was heard, but Saldeath rather keep moving and not waste anymore time. All he needs is the location and he's there. It's best not to remain idle and wait. Snails are needed to keep watch on every cell and hall so they can to prevent anyone from leaving.

As criminals, they are fitted with negative treatment for their crimes. It's only best to give them a taste of their own medicine. Of course, they're actions have to reach a certain level to be fitted the 'right' treatment the authorities deem necessary. Of course, their bounties also have a say, since it can help range them. Little or big threat.

Voices grow louder in volume the closer he approaches the pinpointed spot the guard had spoken of. Saldeath steels himself for the verbal abuse he knows is coming.

The prisoners spout out nonsense. However, they grate on his nerves. They call him out with names and threats alike. Heat builds up inside him and he bites the inside of his cheek. Saldeath clenches his hand around his pitchfork-flute. He can’t break. He must remain calm as he usually is. If he blows up it may cause him to lose his position as Chief-Guard. He can’t have that. No matter how harsh their words, how much they mock, speak bullshit, their words should not effect him in anyway. Wrongdoers such as themselves always say mean and hurtful things. Saldeath has gone through this many times. He’s learned to let it go. Why is it making such an impact on him now?

He spots the snail lying on the floor as he searches his mind and tries to block out the harassers for the source of his emotional state and why it’s not switched off. It must have been something someone said. Or maybe he thought about something but said it out loud on accident. Do the guards he was around know something he didn’t? Did they hear him?

Saldeath’s mind boggles back and forth. Eyes remaining glued to the snail’s shell as it faces in his direction. It’s probably exhausted by staying up all night. Then again, when was night?

He shakes off the intruding thoughts making him more emotionally vulnerable and--

They’re saying his name wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to leave a cliffhanger!
> 
> Sorry to have the title to be a bit misleading. I tried writing tension, the walk to and through the hall, but it didn’t feel right so I said ‘fuck it’. It was at a little before the end where I pretty much had no ideas or thoughts to go off of to continue. So I tried to go with what I could.
> 
> Also Sadi was originally going to be in this near the end and after Saldeath returned from walking down a hall of prisoners shouting at him so that they can talk. But I scrapped that in my head. Who knows, if I make sequel (or extension) to this I may actually go through with it.
> 
> He was also never in the surveillance room with guards or had the opportunity to pick up a collapsed snail. But I had to give him something to do. Give him a reason to be walking down a hall and listen to prisoners calling him “short”, “monkey”, w/e.
> 
> When I first thought about writing this and when the idea was in my head, it had a better feeling with it.
> 
> Thanks for reading anyway!


End file.
